


One-Woman Revolution

by Audrey_Lynne



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: BAMF Bentina Beakley, Character Study, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, also Webby is an heiress nbd, death personified, granny knows best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne
Summary: Bentina Beakley has seen a lot of things in her time and coped with a lot of changes - and, as a result, has developed a very interesting relationship with Death.  But some things never change, and one of them is that she won't hesitate to fight to protect the ones she loves.A brief character study because I adore Mrs. B.
Relationships: Bentina Beakley & Scrooge McDuck, Bentina Beakley & Webby Vanderquack
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	One-Woman Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! My first DuckTales fic...it was bound to happen, sooner or later. Seven-year-old me, after all, used to reenact some of their adventures with my dolls, and I've loved this new series so much. 
> 
> I rarely write in second person POV, but as this story began to flow, it demanded it. I hope you enjoy - feedback is much appreciated!

* * *

You’re five and helping to bake cookies when Papa tells you that little girls are made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. It makes you giggle and preen your feathers a bit. Later, while eating the cookies, Mummy tells you that no matter what little girls are made of, they shouldn’t be afraid to stand up for themselves. This becomes one of your driving philosophies in life – one you will later think of as “do no harm, but take no crap.” And, so, when the neighborhood bully corners you and your little sister on the way home from school, you punch him in the face. You’re sure you’ll be in trouble, but it was worth it. 

As it turns out, once Mummy and Papa find out _why_ you did it, they can’t even pretend to be mad.

* * *

You first meet Death when you’re eleven. You’d known about death before then; of course you had. You’d been to a handful of funerals, all for extended family members you’d never met. But when Papa dies, you’re there and you meet Death himself. You beg him not to do this, but it’s no use. Despite the rumors, he rarely makes bargains. In fact, he warns you – almost sadly – that the bargains he does make are never worth it in the end. It’s not personal. This is just his job.

It’s a terrible job, you think – tearing apart families, devastating people. You almost feel a little sorry for him.

He’s a little surprised you can see him at all; usually, it’s only the soon-to-be deceased who notices him enter. But you’ve always been a little different.

Death takes your beloved Papa and you curse him for it. But he gives you a gift before he goes. He reveals his true name to you, this feisty girl who dared to question Death. His name is Azrael.

It doesn’t ease your pain, but you still feel honored to be graced with this knowledge.

* * *

When spy movies get popular, you quickly come to realize that almost none of them had been written by actual spies. Most of the charismatic leads wouldn’t last a day in the real world. You’re not a lone wolf by choice; it’s hardly your fault that most of your missions are better accomplished solo. So you get used to watching your own back, relying on no one. 

You especially don’t think there’s any place in your world for a wealthy, thrill-seeking Scotsman who’s been trying his hand at the spy game. You’re wrong. He’s _exactly_ what you needed in your world, and you partner with him many more times over the years. 

* * *

At Scrooge’s Christmas party, you dance with a mysterious stranger. Later, there are rumors that your daughter is part Death – which is ridiculous. In the first place, that wasn’t Death. You knew him already. In the second place, you wouldn’t meet Eliza’s father until New Year’s Eve, at S.H.U.S.H.’s party. He was from Research and Development. You don’t need a man in your life, but you want one – him – so you marry him. He volunteers to take your last name, which you find charming despite knowing he’s never cared for his own.

Azrael snatches him away from you barely two years later. It’s not his fault; it’s FOWL’s. But it still feels like a betrayal every time you see him.

* * *

You’re sharing a drink with Scrooge, celebrating another successful mission, when he gets the phone call that will change his life. His sister and brother-in-law have died – Azrael stays busy – and he’s been named the guardian of their twin children. There’s nothing funny about the situation, but you have to suppress a chuckle at the thought of him running around after two four-year-olds. Eliza’s five, there’s just one of her, and that’s still enough to give you a run for your money. He wonders if it’s appropriate to assign his butler to raise the children. You _do_ laugh at that.

You laugh even harder when you meet the twins and discover that little Della has levels of energy that, if harnessed, could light Duckburg for a week.

* * *

You feel like you blinked and Eliza grew up. Suddenly, she’s a young woman, and though you have your reservations about her following your footsteps and joining S.H.U.S.H., she takes to it…well, like a duck to water. It’s like that’s what she was born to do, like you felt when you first started out. And then she’s falling in love with a fellow agent and you warn her about what a terrible idea that is. But, in the end, she’s head over heels and you know exactly what that’s like so you say no more on the subject. Besides, Richard Vanderquack is a fine young man, though you begin to wonder what’s up with wealthy ducks with a taste for adventure getting into the spy business. Or is it just your family that keeps happening to?

Even if you had any lingering reservations about their union, you absolutely couldn’t have held onto them when you see your granddaughter for the first time. She’s bright-eyed and curious from the start, just like her mother. Little Webby is so, so loved, and the joy of it all begins to lull you into a false sense of security about life finally beginning to settle down.

* * *

As your family grows, so does your old partner’s. You’ve long since stopped avoiding referring to him as your friend. He’s one of the few you have left from the old days. Azrael has met most of the others – though, by now, a number of those deaths have been quite peaceful and natural. 

Little Della and Donald aren’t quite so little anymore, and now Della’s going to be a mother to three. It’s a lot to handle, particularly since the father has apparently declined to be involved, but you trust that she’ll learn to handle it. She has her brother and uncle, and you stand ready to offer maternal advice if asked. And then that impulsive, bold girl you watched grow up can’t resist the opportunity to give her children the stars. If only she’d waited to actually meet them, perhaps she could have seen that she had the whole world at her fingertips.

Donald leaves, taking the eggs. You hear through the grapevine that they hatch within the week – healthy, all boys, mostly identical. 

Scrooge, of course, stays in the mansion, but it feels sometimes like he’s left too. He doesn’t let the world see how devastated he is, but you see it in his single-minded quest to bring Della home. 

You spend a lot of time wondering if Della survived, despite the odds, but it’s been awhile since you’ve seen Azrael; he’s the only one whose answer you’d trust.

* * *

Somehow, your partner and friend has also become your employer. Scrooge hired you as his live-in personal assistant, given that Duckworth’s been busy attending to most of his other affairs. He’s still a recluse, buried in his work and his wealth, but you understand his reasons. Apart from the occasional suggestion that he reach out to his nephew to mend fences, you let him be. You’ve gotten quick about dodging the items he throws in your general direction any time you bring the matter up. You know damn well that his aim is good enough that if he wanted them to hit you, they would have.

And then the unthinkable happens. You get the phone call you couldn’t bear to imagine. FOWL and their agents have taken two more lives. Richard and Eliza, taking on a rare joint mission. Walking into a trap. You fall to your knees and you don’t realize you’re screaming until Duckworth and Scrooge materialize at your side, worried and trying to calm you. Duckworth’s even being nice and that makes everything more disconcerting. Even after you hang up, you keep murmuring, “They’re gone, they’re gone…” Part of it’s shock; part of it’s an anger you can’t even get a handle on at the moment. At FOWL, at the world, at Death. Azrael might just be doing his job, but he could have done you this _one_ favor. He could have spared them. 

Webby’s only two; she’s probably going to remember very little of her parents. But you’ll be there to remind her. You bring her to the mansion, knowing it’s one of the few places you can keep her safe. You train her from the moment she can understand. Your methods are unorthodox and some might consider them a bit over the top. Some might encourage you to just let her be a child. But you tried that with Eliza and maybe if you’d trained her from the start, she could have survived. Because that’s the point of Webby’s training. You’re not trying to mold her into the perfect spy; you’re trying to keep her alive. You couldn’t bear it if you lost her too.

* * *

Webby’s unconventional upbringing isn’t without its side-effects. All of her toys have gritty backstories, and you’re cheerfully listening to how her Quackypatch doll has been raised by wolves (and is still a bit feral as a result) over breakfast. You pour them both another cup of juice, knowing Webby will be happy to drink the second one. 

Azrael’s come and gone again, and this time he’s taken Duckworth. It was natural and expected, but that doesn’t make the absence any less glaring, especially because that takes the four occupants of this huge mansion down to three. For as many times as you two were at each other’s throats, there were also the gentle moments neither of you admitted to – the shared bottles of wine on Christmas Eve, the quiet talks after Webby was in bed and your heart ached because she had gotten to be _so much_ like her mother.

Webby’s story trails off as her gaze turns to the empty spot at the table. There are a lot of empty chairs, of course, but _this_ one used to be occupied and she sighs. Your heart breaks a little at the way her face falls. No eight-year-old should know this much sadness. “I miss Duckworth,” she says quietly, taking her doll’s juice and sipping at it.

With someone else, you might have maintained the charade, pretended you didn’t care one way or the other. But this is your darling girl, so you move to her and pull her into your arms, nuzzling your cheek against her hair. “I miss him too, love.”

* * *

The antics are about to have you at your wit’s end, but you’ll adjust. You always do. The bright side of the triplets moving in is that Webby finally has children her own age to play with. She’s not great at playing like a normal child, but they’ll teach her. And she’ll teach _them_ how to avoid danger. Even if she rushes into it headlong as eagerly as they do sometimes. You put up with it because you know Scrooge will keep them safe – and you haven’t seen him this happy in years. Or happy at all, really, since Della disappeared. Donald can be frustrating, but you two quickly work out a truce and come to understand each other. He’s brash and uncouth sometimes, but he loves those boys with all of his soul and would die to protect them in a heartbeat. You can appreciate that. And when he extends that protection to Webby, you’re unspeakably grateful. As she’s grown and left the shelter of the mansion, you’ve feared that you alone might not be enough to keep her safe. You’ll take all the help you can get.

You tell yourself sometimes that Webby’s idolization of Scrooge is largely due to the mystery that surrounded him for so long. He was content to let her live in the mansion but rarely interacted with her before the boys came along. But, for all of his flaws – and all the times you’ve wanted to wring his neck – Scrooge is a good man. You can never stay angry with him for long, especially when you know him better than he knows himself. If he’s the example Webby wants to follow, it’s hardly the worst.

You haven’t told her yet that she’s the sole heir to the Vanderquack fortune, one more way in which she’s like her hero. You’ve been saving that for her thirteenth birthday, when she legally gains access to the funds you’ve been the trustee of since her parents died. They’ve grown since then, thanks to Scrooge’s wise investment advice. She’s one very rich little girl.

* * *

You always suspected that if there was any way for Della to make it home, she would have…eventually. And she has. She still has so much to learn, but she’s trying so hard. Parenthood isn’t easy, and despite the legions of help she has, there’s still years of catch-up learning to do. She’ll do it though, despite the mistakes she’s bound to make along the way. You have faith in her.

When you watch her leap in front of a runaway boulder without hesitation to push Dewey out of harm’s way, you know she’s got the most important part of motherhood down. You can’t even pretend to be cross as you look her over to be sure she’s all right; you’d have done the same thing if you’d been closer.

* * *

One of the terrible things about death is that, even once it’s certain, sometimes it doesn’t happen right away. You’ve seen that too many times, enough to know that Azrael keeps a book on him for such occasions. It’s ancient but in impeccable condition – and, surprisingly, isn’t about death at all. Oddly, it’s a Sumerian novel. Your ancient Sumerian isn’t good enough to be sure of the actual title, but it’s something about farming. Maybe that explains the scythe he sometimes carries.

When you come into some reliable information regarding the whereabouts of the agent who killed Eliza and Richard, you immediately tell Scrooge you need some vacation time. He doesn’t _say_ he knows where you’re going, but he does remind you that you know where the armory is and that’s enough to know you have his blessing. Agents aren’t supposed to seek revenge, but you’re retired and this is personal. You depart on one last solo mission, but soon discover it’s not solo after all. Despite all your precautions, Webby’s managed to stow away – and that’s your fault, really, for teaching her _too_ well. If she managed to sneak in under your beak, she’s surpassed you…and, as proud as you are on one level, this is really the worst possible time.

You toss her safely out of the way of one drone and onto higher ground, but you fail to hear her warning shout about the second until it’s too late. The collision of your head with the unforgiving rock wall is painful, but not as painful as it should be, given that you’re mostly unconscious by the time the sensation registers. Hearing is the last to go, so Webby’s scream is the last thing you’re aware of before you open your eyes and find Azrael looking down at you. He has the book in his hand. 

“No.” You sit up – which you’re able to do in this strange plane between life and whatever comes after – and cross your arms. “Not today. I won’t leave her alone at the mercy of that monster. She’s very capable, but she’s still a _child_.”

Azrael blinks at you impassively. “Honestly, Bentina, this shouldn’t even be an argument. You’re tougher than even I realized. Also, your granddaughter’s first aid skills are excellent.”

“Of course they are.” You climb to your feet so you’re at eye level with Death himself. “If you need anyone, you know who to take. He’s given you enough souls.”

“Tempting,” Azrael admits, “but surely you must be tired. Wouldn’t you love to see your family again?”

“Webby’s my family, too, and she needs me in the land of the living.” If anything could convince you to back down, it’s the thought of holding Eliza in your arms again, hugging her and telling her how much you adore her. But you won’t put one more tragedy on Webby’s shoulders, not now, and you know Eliza would agree. “You’ll have to take a rain check.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “After all these years, I suppose I owe you one. And I have another appointment soon anyhow; I don’t have much time to wait.” He tucks the book back into his cloak. 

You smile. “I thought you’d see it my way.” When you awaken again, everything hurts, but you’re looking into Webby’s tearful but relieved eyes and she’s covering your face in kisses. Also, one of your target’s drones mysteriously turned on him and you swear you see Azrael giving you a thumbs-up from the shadows. You’re just about to write it off to the concussion, but then Webby frowns at you and asks who _that_ is.

“No one we need to worry about today,” you assure her as she helps you to your feet.

Oh, but she’s too smart, too perceptive. She’s nearly wiggling with excitement at the sighting. “Is it true? Am I really part Death?”

You’d laugh, but that would hurt too much, so you settle for rolling your eyes. “Absolutely not. Your grandfather was a scientist.”

She’s probably the only child who’d look disappointed at that revelation. “Oh. So then how do you know him?”

“Friend” is probably too generous a term for your relationship with Azrael, but he’s not exactly an enemy, either. He just…is. “We’re old acquaintances. Adversaries, at times.”

“Oh!” That seems to make perfect sense to her. “He’s your frenemy.”

The kids do come up with such interesting terms these days, but you can’t exactly object to that description. “I suppose you could call it that. Now, let’s go home.”

* * *


End file.
